as close as hands and feet
by doroniasobi
Summary: 'because you're here for me, and I'm here for you. it's as simple as that, really. that's why, you know, we'll be all right. we have to be.' — Beat, Rhyme
1. we live outside the touch of time

**notes** I just wanted to write something about the two of them. I've been meaning to for a long time, but I never really had the chance. And while I'm still not entirely satisfied with this drabble, I felt like it should go up anyway. Also I think this will turn into a sort of drabble collection featuring Beat and Rhyme or something, I'm not sure yet. So enjoy! :D

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><p><strong>we live outside the touch of time;<strong>

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><p>Rhyme feels an emptiness the second she opens her eyes in the UG. It is a wide, gaping hole that she expects to fade after a couple of hours, but it doesn't, even after everything feels normal again, even if it isn't. Her partner doesn't seem to feel anything though, and she watches him bustle through crowds, watches him run right and left and then stop, in the middle of the street to scratch his head.<p>

"Hey, Rhyme! This the right way?"

Still, she likes Beat. She likes his clumsiness, the way he seems to tower over her like a skyscraper, even if he's only just a few inches taller. She likes all of him, from the way he shuffles down the street to the funny sounds he makes when she teases him, pink dusting across his cheeks like candy floss in childish glee on a summer day. In a way, Rhyme is fascinated by the way Beat functions; Beat runs on an endless source of adrenaline and lets his temper flare like sparks, rushes headfirst into whatever he can, and is clueless about many of the more obvious things happening around him. He reminds her a little bit of her own brother, she realizes, and she comes to respect Beat as he is—large, warm, with a comforting sense of steadiness.

He waits for her at the street corner, fidgeting and twisting his head in her direction. "Hey!" He waves, arm straight in the air waving from side to side. "We gotta get to Ten-Four!"

"I know!" Rhyme says back, pausing to catch her breath. "Beat, you're going too fast!" But instead of a discerning look, a laugh bubbles at the back of her throat. Beat stares at her.

"Whatchu lookin' at, Rhyme?"

Rhyme's stomach is clenched like a fist, muscles contracted into a knot that hurts with every laugh she lets out. "I'm coming!" When she reaches Beat, the crowds surround them on the walkway and the streets are full of people. Rhyme is reminded briefly of hardworking ants, coming and going from all directions. Rhyme giggles, and looks at Beat.

"We can cross, Beat; we can walk through them, remember?"

Beat doesn't say anything. Rhyme's smile slips off her face.

"Is there something wrong?" Her hand reaches for his, and Beat jumps, looks to Rhyme with wide, blue eyes. Rhyme slips her hand into his larger one quickly. Beat is warm; his hand is half a size larger than hers, almost, and his fingers are calloused with rougher skin.

"N-Naw," he sputters suddenly. "We good. We okay. Right, Rhyme?"

Rhyme's smile returns when Beat's hold on her hand tightens. Beat has a bear of a grip, and Rhyme imagines a heavy winter blanket when he squeezes it hard. When she closes her eyes, Rhyme sees her brother and feels the gap in her heart narrow and fill with Beat's warmth and familiarity.

"Yeah," she tells him. "We're good."

He beams at her. "Right. We goin'."

"Wait, no, Beat—Ten-Four is the other way!"

"...I knew that."

Rhyme giggles, and clutches the pendant hanging around her neck. "'Cause we're okay today, right?"

Beat's face lights up. "_Now_ you catchin' on!" He gives Rhyme's hand one last squeeze and together, they fly. Beat had given her emptiness a name. And Rhyme just _knew_ they were going in the right direction then.

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><p><em>2011.09.19<em>

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><p><strong>~drabble no. one<strong>


	2. let's rewind and resetplay, shall we

**notes** so I said I'd post weekly and boy was I a liar. honestly hadn't meant to be one, oops.

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><p><strong>let's rewind and reset and play, shall we;<strong>

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><p>Beat wants a time machine. He doesn't want to invent one per se— something tells him that he isn't technologically-literate enough to do so—but he wants one. He can picture it in his head; it'd be at least seven feet tall with cool, metal surfaces and five giant red buttons; one with the word GO on it, one with FAST FORWARD, and another REWIND. (The other two buttons are there just for his personal enjoyment; something to remind him that instead of messing around with the <em>real<em> buttons, there were buttons he could press without destroying the thing. The last time he was at Neku's house he broke the automatic toilet and didn't get to leave until Neku was finished glaring at him. The time _before_, Beat had been getting along pretty well with the automatic soap dispenser. That hadn't gone down very well either.)

But Beat wants a time machine. If Beat had a time machine, he could have picked out chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla from the other day. If Beat had a time machine, he would have remembered to grab a couple cartons of milk from the week before. If Beat had a time machine, he wouldn't have yelled at Rhyme; he wouldn't have yelled at his parents, wouldn't have stormed out of the house, wouldn't have had Rhyme following him, and wouldn't have gotten into that stupid accident that put them in that stupid Game.

If Beat had a time machine, he could have stopped things; he could have stopped some things, ended others, and fixed the things that he had done wrong. He could have kept Rhyme's dreams, could have remembered to remember.

Because—because if Beat had a time machine, Beat would have calmed down, that day. Eventually, he would have.

"'m sorry," he'd have said. "Could've done better. Won't do it again, I swear. I'mma... work harder. Yeah."

And his parents would have sighed, would have forgiven him and offered him one last chance. And Rhyme—Rhyme would have crawled into the room halfway through the yelling, would have pressed herself close against Beat's side, would have stayed quiet until things had folded together neatly. And Beat would have let her.

And when things would have gotten quiet again and his parents would have left the room, Rhyme would have looped her arm through Beat's own and smiled at him like she always did. "You held together," she would have said. "I'm proud of you, big bro."

And he would have swung her into his arms, would have treated her to ice cream, and come home, hand in hand without a single care in the world. And Beat's grin would have reflected the sunlight that day—broad and warm and exhilarating. And it would have felt amazing. It would have felt infinite.

.

_Beat wants a time machine._

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><p><em>2011.10.18<em>

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><p><strong>~drabble no. two<strong>


	3. not falling apart

**notes** ...hides under blanket

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><p><strong>(not) falling apart;<strong>

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><p>Rhyme doesn't remember much about the UG when it's all over. So she doesn't remember exactly why it is that Beat holds her hand tighter as they cross the streets, why it is that Beat goes out of his way to take her with him when he goes out these days. Her memory restores in installments, piecing more of itself back together, and even though it was something she had been wanting to remember, she realizes too late that she doesn't.<p>

Her days become monotonous and meaningless. She talks to people and looks directly into their eyes, watching the sparkle there glow with radiance and wondering if, before the UG, she had been like that, once, too.

"He lied for you," Neku reminds her one day, when they run into each other at Hachiko. "That time when he told you he had a dream to become the best skater in the world? He lied to you that time."

"I know," Rhyme mumbles, tugging at a piece of loose string hanging from her sweater. "I just... there's nothing, now."

Neku frowns. "He wouldn't want to hear you say that."

Rhyme looks at him curiously. "You've changed," she notes suddenly, and smiles a little as Neku looks away, embarrassed. "Was it Shiki?"

"It was all of you," he says. "All of you gave me reason to change." He lowers his voice. "Even him."

Rhyme reaches over to pat his arm. Neku looks at her fondly and lifts his hand, hesitating only for a fraction of a second before proceeding to ruffle her hair through her beanie.

"All I know is," Neku says, looking at her meaningfully, "that he cares a lot. He always has. If you have no dreams to live for, just for a little while, why don't you live for him?"

Just as he finishes that sentence, Beat whirls around the corner on his skateboard, waving enthusiastically at them with his free arm; he's got a plastic bag in the other, and a few chicken nuggets sticking out of his mouth. His voice comes out muffled, and he struggles to swallow, forcing the food down his throat. Shiki is running right behind them, exhausted and yelling after Beat.

Rhyme giggles at the sight. Neku rolls his eyes. She turns to him once more.

"They'll... they'll come back, right?"

Rhyme's voice is small and quiet, but steady and sure. Neku's chest swells with pride.

"They will," he assures her. "In due time."

Rhyme beams at him, before running to meet her brother, legs churning quickly as she brushes past crowds. It's exhilarating; for a moment, she is reminded of the UG, with streets crowded with people and the rush ringing in her ears. Beat catches her, muffled voice yelping with surprise as her tiny body slams into his own.

She buries her head in his stomach and laughs as he flails. Finally, his hands settle on her shoulders awkwardly, grabbing her beanie and grinning back at her.

Shiki is still yelling at Beat in the background. Beat's face is red with embarrassment. And Neku looks at them—_all_ of them, everything that makes them _them—_and smiles, because finally, everything is right.

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><p><em>2012.07.03<em>

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><p><strong>~drabble no. 3<strong>


End file.
